Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
I was, of course, out of luck. Mum was lurking in the kitchen, making some kind of camouflage-coloured smoothie. I went to creep by her, to no avail.
“Ooh, there you are. Could you show me something? I’ve got a new phone and I don't know how to look at the messages on it. I saw I had a message from you, but I couldn't get to it for some reason.”
What a stroke of genius luck. I wanted to kiss whoever had sold her that phone.
“Give it here, I’ll have a look.”
Mum burst out laughing. “Only joking! What on earth have you been up to? You look like something out of a Channel 5 documentary. ”
She managed to keep talking through her laughter.
“Look. I’ve seen it. It's our little secret. Let's move on. Whatever you get up to is your business.”
“But I… seriously, I don't do that sort of shit. Usually. The guy that sent the photo was annoyed with me because I tried to arrange… actually, it doesn't matter. I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. Behind. Whatever.”
“Is this something to do with all this online dating you’re doing?” asked Mum.
“Yeah. Kind of. What’s that?” I said, moving the subject over to the camouflage-coloured smoothie she was concocting.
“Kale, quinoa, sprouts, turmeric and beetroot. Want some? It’s supposed to kick cancer in the balls.”
“Nah, it looks rank. I think I’d sooner take my chances if I’m honest. It actually smells like wet dogs.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got to do everything I can. This bloody tumour doesn't seem to be shrinking much, but this stuff is better than all that chemo crap.”
“Mum, you’ll beat this. It’s actually insane how tough you are. You’re still doing the chemo, though, right?”
“Yeah. They keep giving me these cold caps to wear. They’re supposed to slow down the hair loss, but they don’t bloody work.
Here, I’ve started making these headscarf things.
You should see the state of some of the wigs they’re trying to flog at the hospital.
It's a bloody travesty. I might try and sell a few of these.”
She laughed, passing me her meticulously folded headscarf that somehow looked like something out of a Gucci catalogue.
My mother always had an incredible sense of style. Even bringing us up single-handedly with no money, she’d find ways to look stylish with whatever money she had left over from feeding and clothing us. She always turned heads and never had any problems getting a fella’s attention.
I grabbed her hand and she squeezed mine, which forced out a tear.
She didn’t like showing any weakness to us, more for our protection as she knew seeing her in pieces would upset us.
We always came first with her and always would.
It’s the selfless way of the parent––a part of life I knew nothing about.
We shared a moment of silence before I jumped up to get a bottle of hipster juice from the fridge.
“Why don’t you try some of this instead?” asked Mum, offering me a glass of khaki-coloured slop.
“Absolutely not,” I replied, as she took one sip and then poured the rest down the sink.
“I think I’ll stick with the chemo. That is vile,” said Mum, gurning.
Lilla sauntered into the kitchen and Mum’s face relit with joy as she picked her up and put the moggy on her shoulder, engrossing herself in whatever late-night crap was on the telly.
“Mum?”
“Yes, Lovely.”
“Do you want me to come with you to the hospital tomorrow morning?”
“Well, Flo was gonna take me, but, yeah, if you want to. It’s boring, though. I’ve gotta sit there for hours while they put that crap through me. Mind you, a couple of the nurses there are gorgeous. Maybe you could get one of them to string you up?” she chuckled.
Lilla looked at me in a way that almost seemed like she understood that comment.
“Night, girls,” I said.
I was really worried about Mum; but even more about moving out with Finn and deserting her.
Luckily, Auntie Florence was only two roads away, and we wouldn’t be too far away from her.
Still, I had a bad feeling that her treatment wasn’t working.
Maybe it was time to stop screwing around and actually try and find someone decent before it was too late.
Just before I slumped into bed, I got a text from Ben.
‘Again, so sorry about him. He’s a bit weird about stuff sometimes. He’s actually really sorry though if that makes any difference. Lunch tomorrow, please? I’ll buy.’
I knew Ben wasn’t the soul mate I was looking for, but despite promising myself to turn over a new leaf merely seconds earlier, I replied:
‘Go on then.’
I met Ben for lunch at a gastro-pub in Soho that I knew wouldn't be too busy. It had become a regular date haunt for that exact reason. I had to scope out decent first date locations that weren’t too noisy for East, West, South, North and Central London.
That way, I could appease potential love interests from all over town and impress them by quickly finding a decent location nearby to meet.
Smelling as delicious as usual, Ben walked in wearing a sexy black faux-fur coat over a black vest, his expression softening with each step he took.
“If I’d have known he was going to do that, I’d have snapped your phone in half,” he said, offering his hand to shake.
“Well, that would have caused me even more inconvenience, but… I get the sentiment. ”
“I’m so sorry, Danny. And I’m sorry we set you up like that. It was wrong.”
I flicked his outstretched hand away and pulled him in for a hug.
“I can’t stay angry at you.”
“Me neither,” he replied.
I pulled back and stared at him quizzically.
“Sorry, what do you mean ‘me neither’?”
“Well, you did turn down my generous offer of a fun playtime, only to try and get off with my flatmate.”
He hoisted an eyebrow. Damn it, why can’t I do that?
I sunk back into myself, because, yeah, he was kind of right.
“Touché.”
“I’m joshing with you, you sausage. Look, I triple up with my dates sometimes. It's no big deal,” said Ben, sucking his Vodka, lime and soda through a double barrel of thin black straws.
“No shit? What’s the most dates you’ve had in a day?” I asked.
“Eight.”
“Okay, that’s actually impossible,” I protested.
“No, it’s not. I just parked up in a Starbucks all day and told each of them that I was only available for half an hour.
Once I’d had enough of them, I’d fake leaving the place.
Then I’d hide around the corner for five minutes and go and wait for the next one.
Or just tell them to do one if they were dicks. ”
“Wow, you’re not pissing about, are you?”
“Well, it’s ridiculous to expect anyone to do the monogamy thing these days with this much choice,” he replied, hoovering his drink whilst flicking through a new dating app.
“It’s impossible to settle for one person, although some people still do, would you believe?” he continued.
“Yeah, I’m beginning to understand that.”
He edged in closer.
“Serial-dating’s the norm these days. You’ve just got to embrace it. People are too busy to even spend time looking at anything longer than a six-second TikTok these days.”
“Six seconds. How the hell are we expected to focus our attention on having an actual relationship? There are too many fit blokes to ignore. As soon as I get chatting to someone semi-decent, someone else pops up. I just end up chatting to them and forgetting about the other one. And these sites keep giving you recommendations as well. It’s like Amazon.
Ooh, because you went out with Richard, 30, you may like David, 28 as well. ”
“Yeah. It’s fun though, right?” chuckled Ben.
“Oh, for sure. It’s great.”
“Life’s all about having fun and doing the things that make you happy.
Christ knows, there’s so much shit in the world we can’t control, so why not make the most of these gifts that we’ve been blessed with?
Sex makes me happy, so I do it. A lot. Besides, you’re never going to find the perfect partner.
There are always at least one or two ingredients missing. ”
“Sex makes me happy too,” I said.
“So, do lots of it, then. Where’s the fire? As long as you're honest about not hurting anyone, I can’t see any problem. I mean you know better than anyone the sort of trouble you can get in if you tell porkies,” said Ben, with a sultry wink.
“Yes. Honesty. That’s the bit I need to nail,” I said, hanging my head theatrically.
“Oh, you’re crap at it. If you lie, you always get found out. If you want sex and nothing more, just say. There are plenty of fellas out there the same. Just don’t make any promises to anyone if you're not feeling it,” said Ben, with the first hint of seriousness that I’d ever seen in him.
“But I do kind of want to meet someone. And I know my mum wants me to. She might not have long, and you know…”
Ben hung his head down low.
“Again, I’m sorry for what Luke did. Like I said, he feels really shit if that’s any consolation.”
I nodded in acceptance of his apology on behalf of Luke and slurped some of my drink, staring at the top of Ben’s chest until he spoke again.
“Do you really want to meet someone? Have you ever thought that maybe you just think that you do, because society has led you to believe that it’s normal?
Nobody I know really wants to be monogamous.
Think about all of your married friends.
I bet they’re all living their single lives through you, asking you for pictures of all your dates and about all the sex you're having. Am I right?”
“100%, actually.”